Where the Dragon Flies, Hope Survives

Evangeline carefully wrapped her full breasts with cotton, securing them swiftly, nothing irritated her more than the heavy globes bouncing around, weighing down her movements.

A dark sage colored shirt, thick and durable slipped over her torso, tucked into a pair of thick leather riding breeches of shadowed mahogany, the two bound tightly by a golden buckled belt, inscribed with the crest of the Dragon.

She lingered over her selection of boots, only slightly heeled and tough enough to endure movement, her feet could only handle the finely crafted but stubbornly hard and painful half-shoes usually worn by Nobles. The Princess despised little in this world, some had called her prickly or stubborn as a root, but that wasn't the image she had of herself, Her mother the Grand Matriarch of the Regis; most beloved and beautiful woman in the Ninefold had taught her many things _"Never bow to the vision of men, or you will walk a path that is never your own." _Even with a Queen on the Throne, the old ways were still strong in the heart of the people, after the shift of the sexes in the First Aeon, the Idea of Woman was changed forever, reduced to that of the nurturer and the Man's provider, the fighter, the power, when more than 50 generations of Regis had proved that Power came from the heart of the beholder, not what resided between their legs.

And yet still, Evangeline did love her shoes, and so cast her eyes with extreme scrutiny over which pair of boots she'd callous her feet in today.

Her eyes did eventually catch on a pair of tall, and sleek hard heeled boots, freshly shone with Midnight oil from the Middle-Eastern lands of Ptumir, treated with the sap of palmwood blossoms of the Mysterious lands of the far south beyond the Serpent's pass, so that it caught the light and reflected it in dark spirals. These boots were a gift from her father for her 19th birthday where he had taken her out to the Forests of Lumen, a wide field that stretched from the Ruined City of Esterwen towards the Writhing forest in the Greenlands; Her mother's home Kingdom.

Running her fingertips across the buckles of tempered steel, she remembered his voice... just a fleeting memory, one of a time long past.

"Your mother tells me that You have been riding off into the forest again." He said in his smooth and authoritative tone.

"I like it there, the rabbits and doe come and greet me if I bring them food."

"I am sure that the Animals appreciate your kindness, little bird. But Chamberlain Henrietta doesn't appreciate having to repair every mud-incrusted, torn soled Half-shoe you come sauntering in with."

She folded her arms then, it was not in her nature to admit her wrong-doings so quickly as Morganna or Arthur "Tis it not her responsibility to see to my needs?"

"Aye, it is indeed. And your bay to carry you through the rough terrain, exhausted as the poor mare is, and the stableboys to scrubs her down and feed her well. And of course the servantry to scrub the marble caked with the dirt-trail that you track from the Draken-gate to your Chambers."

Evangeline ran her fingers across the pale petals of the tall Lumen flowers which painted the hillside in tones of Ivory and Azure, reflecting the Moonlight above as She and her Father sat on his cloak, looking up at the stars. A subtle kind of guilt in her fingers "I didn't think of them." She muttered.

He smiled at her softly "Because you think with the mind of a Girl and not as Princess of the House of Regis. One day you will leave us, to wed with a grand lord of a great House, You will govern his lands in his absence, you will care for his people and you will care for your children, You will be aware of much more than yourself. And if you do not heed the needs of those around you, then you will be surrounded only by the eyes of enemies, not allies..." He took her by the chin then, so that she looked at him. "Speak our adage."

"Where the Dragon flies, Hope survives." She whispered with clarity, where her governess had hammered the Adage of House Regis and all the other great Houses into her mind.

He smiled "Your great grandmother, Willow the Wanderer explored every cranny of this land, every valley, every towering mountain, spreading the comforts that we take so easily for granted. I see her in you, little bird, You will always fly free, but you must fly with care of those around you. Promise me this."

She nodded "I promise Father, I will be kinder, I swear it to the saints."

"The saints she says..." He chuckled in his booming way that she missed dearly. "Perhaps you shall swear on these instead."

The Boots that he unwrapped then from the cloth of black silk where the very same that she strapped now to her feet, comfortable, durable, mailable, beautiful, she ran her fingers through the fluffy white and red-orange of the red fox fur that crowned these boots.

Evangeline smiled softly, lingering for only a moment, before tightening her bootstraps and standing promptly, ready to confront another day with her Father's memory protecting each step she took.

The Princess pushed open her Chamber doors, stepping out and walking with a graceful purpose. Immediately the heavy sound of Gilded Sabatons followed close behind as Sir Marquis, an old and Grey knight, sworn to the Royal guard since she was a girl spoke up in his vigilant march behind her "Another late night, Your Highness?" He asked a tone, soft as silk with the graces of age.

A smiled cracked across her red lips "I have no idea of what you speak, Good Sir Marquis. Tell me, just how much gold does it cost to flood your Royal Barracks with ale every night?"

"Only as much as Chamberlain Mont forgets to charge on the ledger, Your Highness."

"So nearly all of it?" Angie grinned, maintaining her pace with Sir Marquis behind her, though she knew he too bore a subtle smile.

"Who could tell, I am just a shambling old fellow Afterall."

"Oh hush, You're as radiant as your first Noon, Sir. And subtle as the morning breeze." Angie cared for Sir Marquis, glad that She was in his care, and he in hers just as much so, the life in Drakenhald could be difficult, allowing a little wiggle-room made a day filled with traditions and ancient practices bearable.

"You honour me, Your Highness."

"Yes, but do try and Honour your liver. It isn't what it was."

"Indeed, Your Highness, absolutely Indeed."